


Was it Chance?

by KMO27



Series: My Sweet Summer Child [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greece & Rome, Ancient Greece, Animal Death, First Meetings, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), M/M, Magic, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Nymphs & Dryads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-11 16:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19930702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KMO27/pseuds/KMO27
Summary: Steve's peaceful afternoon is interrupted by two nymphs' gossip of a monster in the garden.





	Was it Chance?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello readers,  
> A quick note is that these set of stories will be easier to read if you know your Greek mythology (or at least Percy Jackson source will be enough) but to make things easier I will add a key in the notes. If this is helpful, please let me know. 
> 
> (***Note: I am aware of the incestuous manner of the Greek gods. In the original story, Zeus, Hades, and Demeter are siblings making Zeus Persephone's father and uncle and Hades Persephone's uncle and husband. In the case of this story, the three are not related so it makes things less icky and I'm not George R R Martin. I don't feel like writing pedophilic incest if your taking age into account...honestly, it's best not to overthink a myth)
> 
> Zeus (Joseph): King of the Oylmpian gods and the sky. He is the sire to Persephone.  
> Demeter (Sarah): God of the harvest and fertility of the earth. She is also one of the twelve Olympians. She is the mother of Persephone and creater/owner of the garden location from the "Hades and Persephone" myth.  
> Persephone (Steve): Goddess of flowers and spring. She becomes Hades's bride and Queen of the Underworld. She spends haft the year in the underworld and the other haft with her mother, resulting in season changing.  
> Hades (Bucky): God of the dead and Lord of the Underworld. He is one of the twelve Olympians but is not allowed on Mount Olympus.  
> Pan (Sam): God of the Wild. He is worshipped of wild creatures especially the satyrs
> 
> 8th century: Greek was emerging from the Dark Ages and the Mycenaean (Greek predecessors) disappeared  
> Nymphs: young female deity typically identified with natural features such as mountains (oreads), trees and flowers (dryads and meliae), springs, rivers and lakes (naiads) or the sea  
> Titans and Giants: Children of Gia and the predecessors of the gods. Both were defeated by the gods in great wars  
> Chiron: a centaur who has been known for training heroes like Hercules and Percius  
> Homer: a Greek author from the Dark Ages who is given credit for the "Illiad" and the "Odyssey"  
> "Illiad": Homer's story of the Trogan War  
> "Odyssey": A sequal to Homer's "Illiad" following Odysseus's ten-year journey home  
> Aurea: another name for a wind or sky nymph

**Eighth century BC**

* * *

“Steve! Where are you? This isn’t a joke.”

Steve had climbed a large oak and was hiding in it’s lower branches. Sam wouldn’t be able to find him. He always relied on the trail of blossoms Steve always left in his wake. Everyone thought it was a gift, bringing life wherever he stepped; but to Steve, it was a nuisance at times like these. He could never get away from his caretaker. 

Steve had thought he had outwitted the old goat when he heard, “I know you are up there! Don’t make me get you.”

Steve kept very still, hoping his silence would be taken for absence. It didn’t work. Sam took out his pipes and played a short tune causing the branched to suddenly wrapped about Steve’s torso and reveal him.

“Hey!” Steve wriggled, “Let me go.”

“Why should I?” Sam snapped, “Maybe if I tie you down, you will sit still for your lessons for more than five minutes.”

Steve glowered at the dark-skinned satyr. Sam had known him since he was a godling. Tricks like flattery or pitty weren’t going to affect him, “What would I have to do in order for you to release me?”

Sam thought for a moment, “You will sit still for your lessons and the end of the day tend to Miss Weatherspoon’s pine tree for the rest of the afternoon.

Steve winced. Miss Weatherspoon was an older wood nymph at the edge of the garden. Steve had nothing against wood nymphs or any kind of spirit who inhabited the garden but Miss Weatherspoon was as mean as a wet cat.

“Fine. Just get me out of here.”

Sam folded his arms and raised a brow, “Do I have your word?”

Of course, Sam would make him give his word. A word of an immortal is basically law. There are grave consequences if it is broken, “Yes, yes. You have my word. Now release me!”

Sam took out his pipe around and played a few notes. Steve fell with a thud on his skinny bum and groaned.

Sam put away his pipe and shook his head, “I don’t think I have ever met a god with less grace and manners as you and I know for sure I’ve never met one you gave me this much trouble. If I didn’t know who your parents were, I’d say you were at least half pixie.”

Steve ignored the satyr’s rant and brushed off his white tunic. His mother insisted on white because of the status of innocence though anyone who really knew the god of flowers knew he was as much for mischief as Hermes.

Steve brushed leaves out of his cornsilk hair but they always seem to return. The leaves fell into a new patch of forget-me-nots sprouting at his bare feet and beginning to curl around his ankles the longer he stood there.

Sam squat down, “Steve, are you listening?”

The small god must have had a dumb look on his face because Sam pinched the bridge of his nose and signed, “I know you hate them, Steve, but you’re lessons are important. You need to learn etiquette for court and control over your powers if you want to be respected by the other gods.”

“Sam, you know I learn best from practice, not lectures. I can’t sit there in a stuffy room with my head in a scroll all day,” Steve insisted, “I need to be outside. I know it must drive you crazy too.”

Sam’s short tail twitched, “I must disagree. This history of the Titans and Giants must seem tedious but it is, in fact, important if you wish to attend a meeting of the gods for the solstices or any such affair.”

“How?”

“My friend, Chiron says history should not be ignored so the world is doomed to repeat it as you have seen from your lessons. I have seen mortals falling into this trap over thousands of years all around the world. That is why the world is in chaos right now. Mortals did remember the past and therefore cannot adapt without previous skills and knowledge. One must learn to plant before learning to harvest. Do you understand?”

Steve plucked a few strands of the forget-me-nots that have grown and started twisting them into a braid, “I think so.”

“Good,” the satyr stood up, “Now, let’s make our what back to the Willow.”

“Can we at least stay outside?” Steve pleaded, “It’s too beautiful outside to stay indoors.”

“Will you behave?” Steve nodded enthusiastically, “Very well.”

Steve bounced up off the ground in excitement and handed Sam the small bracelet he made. Sam smiled, “Do not think this gets you off the hook, little god.”

The Willow was a humongous tree that was connected to a large pond where the water nymphs swim all day. Steve has no idea how old it was but he knew it was large enough for Sam to convert into his home in the hollow base of the tree. Steve would’ve thought that the nymph of the Willow would not be too happy that she would be made into something so domestic but Steve has yet to meet her. 

Steve knows every tree has some creature living with it. Wood Nymphs and sprites are tied to their tree’s condition. If the tree is strong and stubborn, so is the spirit. If the spirit is happy and flourishing, so is the tree. It’s just the way things are. However, once in a while, Steve will find an abandoned tree. He doesn’t know why that is and Sam refuses to tell him.

Sam crawled into the Willow’s opening and returned with scrolls Steve had started reading yesterday. The satyr laid them out on a boulder and began the lesson, “If you are tired of learning of Titans and Giants, why don’t we pick up where we left off with Homer?”

Steve unfolded the scroll, “What book are we on, again?”

“Illiad, Book 6.”

Steve actually liked Homer’s work. It was interesting to hear about the world outside of the garden. Steve’s world is endless growth, harvest, and peace. He had never seen the wild waters of the sea or experienced the adrenaline of battle and fire. In truth, Steve is content where he was and didn’t see the need to experience mortal complications like war. He was happy in his mother’s garden; even if Steve believes it’s been inappropriately named as the garden took up its own mountain. It’s just entertaining to read.

* 

Once the sun was high, Steve was excused to help Miss Witherspoon. She was talking to a few of the other older wood nymphs so Steve thought better than to disturb their visit. He spent a good half of the evening preening her pine needles and willing nutrition into her roots. Witherspoon returned while Steve was spreading dead needles around her base to keep weeds from growing there. 

Nymphs do not age like mortals though they do age. Aging isn't visible in their appearance; only health. There appearance on much like the trees they inhabit. Like a pine, Miss Witherspoon stood tall and strong in simple covering. Her thin, green hair was woven with her needles into a tight bun that made her eyes and cheekbones sharp. Besides a few yellow strands, Miss Witherspoon was healthy. 

“You missed a spot,” she commented.

Steve nodded and moved the needles, “Yes, ma’am.”’

“And my needles are uneven.” she sniffed her upturned nose, “Some are still yellow. Up on the left side.”

Steve stood up and began climbing the tree, “Sorry, ma’am,” In truth, the needles were lime green because they were new but Miss Witherspoon only wanted dark green needles. Steve tried to tell her a century ago that it causes the needles to die quicker but he doesn’t bother anymore.

Steve could hear her mutter, “A god of nature my ass,” that she said loud for Steve’s benefit, “ If I hadn’t been your wet nurse, I’d never had made the connection to your mother. Why did you even bother offering your assistance, boy, if you were to perform only mediocre results?”

It did sting to hear of these words for mistaking lack of experience for incompetence, but Steve was taught to respect his elders and Miss Witherspoon had been a young sprout when his mother had created this garden.

*

Sam had been called away to deal with the tribe of neighboring satyrs because, believe it or not, Sam was their god. God of the wild to be precise but sometimes it was easy for Steve to forget. Steve’s mother was also absent from the garden as she was needed elsewhere more often than the garden needed her. In fact, Steve remembered tomorrow was the solstice so both would still be gone for at least another week.

Steve wouldn’t be lonely. 

When Sam wasn’t suffocating him in the Willow, Steve would find a soft place to lay and lounge around, basking in the warmth. The sun caused freckles to appear on his shoulders and cheeks but he never burned. Even the freckles would disappear if he stayed in the shade or one of the caves for too long.

*

“Don’t you ever get bored of just laying there,” came a voice to his right while Steve was napping by the lake one day. 

Steve opened his eyes and looked up from the irises that had grown in his sleep, “Hello, Peggy.”

Peggy was a spitfire of a wood nymph that resided in a young maple. Unlike Miss Witherspoon who made stiff and green, Peggy was curvy and have splashes of reds. When Steve first met her as a godling, he thought she painted her lips with berries like the mortals.

Now, Peggy’s rose-colored lips quirked on one side, “You are so lazy, Steve.”

“I’m not lazy. I am relaxing,” then Steve closed his eyes again, trying to return to that tranquility.

“Well if you’re not doing anything, maybe you can help with my basket weaving,”

“Now, who’s being lazy,” Steve countered but sat up, “But sure. I have the time. Just remember who to thank when harvest season arrives.

*

As the two wove reeds into baskets, Peggy’s cousin nymph Angie swam up to shore, announcing, “Do you wanna see something scary?”

Steve’s head jerked up in interest, “Scary how?”

“Scary like dark magic.”’

Steve perked up, “Really?”

Angie nodded eagerly, “Yes, there is a monster in strange armor that just appeared out of the shadows.”

“How is that dark magic?”

“You didn’t understand me. I did not use a metaphor. The monster literally melted out of the shadows like spilled ink,” Angie looked around, swiping mops of dirty blonde hair out of her line of sight, “And that is just the start, there with old wolf that walked up to it and when it touched him, the wolf just fell down dead.”

Steve’s fingers stopped his weaving, “What?”

Peggy scoffed, “That sounds like a load of horse dung to me.”

“I' m not lying,” Angie insisted, “I checked the wolf. He was dead; already starting to cool.”

“Come off it. Demeter has enchantments around the garden to keep anything that dangerous out. You’re just trying to scare poor baby Steve.”

“I am not a baby!” Steve countered, “And I’m not scared. I’ll show you. Where can I find this monster?”

“I’ll show you. Meet me downstream,” then Angie dived back under.

Steve and Peggy dropped their baskets and raced after the dark streak shooting in the river with Daffodils and daisies in the god’s wake. Eventually, Angie stopped swimming and stepped out of the river. She wore no coverings as a custom of water nymphs but was in blue markings that ran from head to toe. 

They made their way through the oaks and maples where the thick of their leaves blocked most rays of light. In the mists of the rustle of leaves, laid a wounded deer. One of its antlers had been snapped off and its fur around its neck was matted with blood. The poor thing looked like it was in pain.

Steve started to approach, hoping to summon an opium weed as a painkiller, but Angie pulled his small body back into the bushes.

“Hey! I-”

“Shh!” Angie scowled, “It’s coming!”

Peggy rolled his eyes but ducked down with the two of them. After a few minutes, she began picking off a batch of blueberries and popping them in her mouth, “So,” she munched, “Where’s this oh so dark magic and monster?”

Angie glared, “You’ll feel it. It just gets very cold. I’m sure it’ll come this way.”

“If it turns out to just be an Aurea blowing off, I’ll be so pissed. You water nymphs are so sensitive out of your little stream.”

Angie began to retort, “And you wood nymphs always act like you have a stick up your-”

“Guys!” Steve hissed. The two went quiet not from Steve but from the cold. It wasn’t freezing but the drop did cause fine hairs to stand on the back of his neck. Steve knew it wasn’t just a wind nymph though; there was a hollowness to the scene. Steve saw rabbits and squirrels scurry away and the birds fell silent. The forest was deathly quiet; devoid of life. The buck was trying to stand but collapsed repeatedly. 

This void should have scared Steve but it instead entranced him. It was an alien silence; neither peaceful nor isolating. He didn’t know what to think. Angie began to cling to Steve, shivering, searching for his warmth. Steve looked and saw Peggy was stock still, moments away from bolting.

The silence was broken by the clunk of heavy footsteps. 

Steve frowned. He didn’t recognize the sound. Most of the creatures of the garden were either graceful or light on their feet. The humans Steve had come across always sounded loud too but they are clumsy. These steps carried command. 

Steve’s curiosity almost got the best of him. If Angie hadn’t been hugging him so tight, he’d have run out to meet those steps.

Steve felt his heart leap into his chest when the source of the dark magic came into the clearing. It didn’t look like a monster. It looked like a man but Steve knew better than to assume he was mortal. Someone with that power was a god; a very old, very powerful god.

His outfit was as foreign as his magic. He wore dark barbarian armor made of leather and iron rather than the traditional cotton and bronze. His wardrobe also consisted of a large black cloak with a mantle skin of a dire wolf. His dark hair was pulled back and his face was covered by black war paint around his eyes and a short beard framing his jaw. Steve would have thought the god was overcompensating his presence but the armor and cloak fit well on his tall and broad frame. 

The god looked around his surrounds and for a moment, dark grey eyes landed on Steve. He couldn’t breathe until the god looked onward. The god seemed satisfied and knelt down by the buck. The deer what frantic to get away, jerking his head around as the god reached a gloved hand towards its muzzle. 

Steve didn’t miss the sad look in God's eyes as he shushed the creature in a language Steve didn’t recognize. With that tongue and clothing, Steve began to wonder if he was foreign.

Whatever he said calmed the beast but God continued to stroke it’s pelt until the poor buck closed his eyes and when limp. 

It took Steve a second to see that the buck wouldn’t breathe again. Steve had never seen a creature die. His mother had forbidden Sam from letting him see the end of life before, thinking it was too much for his fragile innocent mind. Steve wasn’t scared or even angry though, he was curious. He’d only been told that death was painful like a knife to the heart and suffocation of deep water but the buck looked so at peace.

Steve didn’t realize he was getting up until Angie hissed, “Steve, what are you doing?! That monster is dangerous.”

The god looked up of the deer when he spotted Steve’s blonde tuft of hair poking up, “Listen to your friend, little one. Monsters are dangerous and you are likely to be eaten.”

"You won't eat me."

"What would stop a monster like me? Who's to say this beast isn't my supper and I'd not crave young blood like you as a sweet?"

Steve blinked. The god’s face gave no emotion away but he couldn’t tell it the god was serious or not, “But you are not a monster.”

“If I am not a monster, then what am I?”

Steve stepped away from his hiding spot on a whim, “You know what you are. Why do you need to have a stranger tell you?”

Again, the god’s face was stone, “To see if you know the answer.”

“You are a god, am I correct?”

“Yes, little one. A god of death. If you were wise like your friends you’d stay away or meet the same fate as this poor creature,” the god gestures to the buck.

“No, I would not.”

The god crinkled his brows together in a scowl, “Twice you've given a fool's answer. What makes you so certain of your immortality? The egotism of youth?”

“I am a god too,” the god's frown deepened. Steve walked closer to let his own aura warm the god. His was not as strong but it gave off the presence of an immortal.

The god was puzzled, “Who are you? Demeter told me of only Pan and Persephone in the garden?”

“Don’t call me that” Steve snapped before reeling it back in. He had been known for being a spitfire. He coughed before continuing, “Excuse me, I would prefer if you did not call me by that title. I go by Steve.”

The god blinked, “You’re...not a maiden?”

Steve flushed, “Now, what is that supposed to mean?”

The god stroked his beard and looked away, “I do not mean to demean your virtue. The Fates simply proclaimed Demeter to bare a goddess, not a god. I have mistaken you for a nymph but now see that it was foolish for me to presume you to anything but the god of flowers.”

Steve groaned and rubbed his eyes, “Please, no more formalities or you may kill me yet.”

That did draw the god’s lips into a quirk of a smile, “So I understand, no formal names for you? You sure you are fine with me using a private name?”

Steve shrugged, “I' m not traditional.”

The god chuckled, “Neither is your mother. I am glad you took after her and not your father.”

Steve cocked a smile, “You have some trials against my father.”

“You have no idea,” the god grimace, “Forgive me, I-”

Steve laughed, “Don’t be. I’ve never even met my father so the King cannot be as great as the mortals think.”

The brush sturred behind them. Peggy’s brunette and Angie’s blonde heads stuck out ushering for Steve to come back. Steve didn’t want to leave though. 

“You’re friends may have the right idea. Run along, little godling.”

Steve pouted, “I am not a child.”

“Of course not,” the god chuckled and turned with a swoosh of his cloak, “I have a business elsewhere to attend to. Farewell.”

Steve gaped in awe as the god’s silhouette melted into wisps of shadows before fading out of existence. If Steve ever saw the god again, he’d pester him until he told Steve how to perform that bit of magic. 

Steve turned back to see Peggy’s smug face as she sings songs, “You are dead when Sam finds out.”

“And he isn't going to because you two will keep your trap shut,” Steve spins on a heel preceded by violets. 

Which remind Steve. He never received a name. Sure, he could tell the god was probably was Lord of the Underworld. Steve wasn’t stupid but Hades is a title, a name for mortals to pray upon; not a name. Steve would throw a fit if he had to us titles casually; as he said, Steve wasn’t traditional.


End file.
